Epieikês
by SilverGilded
Summary: Looks can be a deadly thing, especially when you don't know where it's coming from. Out of all the hookers in the alley, Connor and Murphy had to see the normal one.
1. Helleva Loaded Question

Someone was watching them. Neither Connor nor Murphy could place where the stare was coming from or from whom, but there defiantly was a set of eyes burning on their necks and discovering if the look was threatening or not was driving the brothers to their wits-end. The stare had the absent feeling of a threat, but it gave little comfort in that it didn't feel entirely safe either. As the Twin's kept walking, trying to stay as calm as a stalked person can be, Murphy noticed Connor's eye shifted from side to side, searching skittishly as they walked down the dirty-incrusted street they called their home.

Reaching into his pocket, the darker-haired brother pulled out a cigarette and a liter.

"Ye feel tha' too?" Murphy whispered through lighting the loosely place cancer-stick perched between his lips.

Connor reached out a hand in front of his brother and beckoned for a cig. Murphy placed the nearly-empty pack and his lighter gently in his brothers hand, as he looked up the short ways to Connor's face for his answer. A short bend of Connor's neck gave Murphy his answer.

They were defiantly being followed.

- - - - -

The alleys were the best place to lose a stalker, but the farther the McManus brothers went the heavier the stare got. They finally stopped behind a brick building that was popular with corner-workers. There were about a dozen or so hookers evenly spaced to look inconspicuous from normal passer-by's (or passer- buyer's).

As Connor and Murphy slowed to a stop, they looked around them for where ever the hell that look was coming from.

"This is gettin' a li'l fuckin' ridiculous!" Connor exclaimed to his brother.

"What the fuck do you suppose we do, then?" Murphy spat back.

"How the fuck should I know!"

This feeling was really sending the brothers to the edge and frankly it was scaring the living shit out of them. They knew the cops were on the look out for the Saints, but they knew Smecker was keeping there asses clued to their desk-chairs, flooding them with paper work and other assignments he could pull out of his ass. It was a possibility that it was the rest of the Italian Mob out to get them for popping their boss in court, but it couldn't be. They don't do cat and mouse. They do 'find and kill on sight'

Murphy looked to his wired brother running his hand through his hair and started worrying his own hands in anticipation.

"The Russian Mod, then?" Connor spoke the end of his thread of thought.

"Can't be," Murphy said, "Who would send them? They have no boss, after we shot all the bastards,"

"Fuck," Connor sighed, looking around fruitlessly.

They were getting nowhere fast. The brother's hadn't a clue of what to do. They could probably pull a few more things out of their Irish asses, but nothing that would dampen their fear.

"I need a pint," Murphy said to the air.

Connor nodded his head and walked a ways to the end of the back-street. The stare was still out there somewhere and they hoped they didn't run into it anytime soon, but as they neared the exit a few more hookers leaned up against the wall with the perfected look of 'come get me'. They were all scantily dressed with skirts that barely covered anything and strips of fabric that shouldn't be classified as a shirt, but as Connor and Murphy began to exit the darkness, one of the girls stuck our from the others. She was right at the opening, looking out to the streets up ahead. The girl was leaning against the brick wall, looking away from the brothers with a casual slouch to her body. Her hands were in the pockets of her hole-less jeans that reached to the bottom of her black Converse's with straight milk chocolate hair coming past her broad shoulders wearing a simple black tank-top. As Connor and Murphy neared the girl they saw right away how tall she was. She was taller than the twin's so that made her 5 foot 10 easily, the other was that she had some muscles on that thin body. Everything on her was sculpted and hard as a rock.

Even as they came almost face to face with her, they couldn't stop looking at her. She had green eyes outlined in thickly smeared black eyeliner that almost seemed to cast a shadow over her eyes and thick lips that sat in a neutral line across her face, but what stuck out the most on this girl was a black-inked tattoo that arched upwards across her chest.

PHILêSUCHOS

They were unto subtle about their prying eyes and Murphy knew it and soon did Connor, because the girl caught both of their stares and held it. As they kept walking away she kept there eyes until their heads couldn't turn any farther around on their necks and right before the brothers lost their sight on the girl she smirked, turned and went the other way into the alley where they just came.

Connor and Murphy walked silently in the streets for about seven blocks until Murphy had to break the heavy air.

"What do ye suppose tha' tattoo meant?"

You could hear the undeniable curiosity in the brothers voice and he knew Connor was thinking the same thing.

"I don't know, but she's been in prison," Connor proclaimed.

Murphy gave his brother a look of 'what the fuck?'

"How do ye fig're?"

"She has black band tattoo's 'round her wrists. It's rea'ly ol' school," Connor vaguely explained, "I'm goin' to call Smecker. Somethin' doesn't fit right with girl,"

There was a pause. Something wasn't right.

"Ye feel tha'?" Murphy scowled questionably.

"Feel wha'?" Connor asked as he stuck a cigarette into his mouth.

"Exac'ly!"

"What the fuck are ye talkin' about Murph?"

"Tha' feelin' for before! It's gone!"

Connor stopped midway from lighting his cig. and thought about it.

"Holy fuck!" Connor hissed, nearly dropped the lighter.

"Ye need to call Smecker and dig some shit up 'bout dis girl, now!"

Connor was at the nearest phone booth before his brother could finish.


	2. Wrong End of the Barrel

**A lot of this is going to be dialogue. I tried to fit some discription into it as best I could. Hope everyone likes it. Reviews are welcome**

**(2 weeks later)**

**I am so stupid! XP For some reason my mind was not working when i wrote this chapter or at least my geological part wasn't! Why the hell did i think Boston was in New York? Got me. . . If you see anymore stupidity coming from me please tell me and i'll fix it! Hahahaha!**

**(2 hours later)**

**I am screwing up everything! X_X Not only did i not get the geographical stuff right, my time line is going to be screwed up. . . But! No worries! I can fix easily! *zoom!***

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Connor dropped his last few cents into the slot of the payphone and dialed the number that he never thought he would dial in the next million years. Murphy ran up and stood right beside his brother, practically suturing himself to Connor's hip. Connor held the phone between the both of them, not much caring of the minimal personal space. The brothers listened for the line to pick up as the phone kept giving a grating scream they assumed was the ringer.

Neither one of the brothers was comfortable with asking for help, but Smecker was an exception. He saw what the brothers did, instead of looking andjudging like the public. In a way the FBI agent was like them, but was bound by the law, so, being a quick, smart man, Smecker found the loop-holes in the flawed system that nearly gave the brothers free reign.

"FBI, Agent Smecker speaking," the authoritative voice of the agent nearly made the twin's jump.

"Smecker?" asked Connor. _O' cou'se it's Smecker, dumb-fuck'r! Who else would it be!_, "It's Connor and Murphy"

There was a pause on the other line as Smeckermoved around out of ear shot of the others in the bureau.

"What the hell are you boy's doing!" Smecker hissed quietly, "I told you guys to lay low,"

Connor and Murphy phisically flinched, being reminded of a good swatting from their ma as boys was the last thing they needed at that moment, but they knew the yelling agent was only worried.

"We know, we know! But. . ." Connor paused and stumbled over the words, not sure of who to put their current situation.

"We have a bit of a problem," Murphy supplied for the both of them.

Connor looked to his brother, who gave a dubious look back and both looked at each other, having a conversation in their own wordless way, eventually shrugging as into say 'Sure, why not'

"Oh really? What kind of problem?"

Connor and Murphy could hear the muffled sounds of Smecker reaching for pen andpaper, ready to help as best he could. They both inwardly sighed. A yelling motherly cops wasn't on the top of their list with their still wired nerves bouncing around inside them.

"We're not quite sure yet,"Connor said truthfully, "But could we have a favor from ye? We need te look up someone, but we don't have a name,"

"Sure kid," there was another pause and more muffles as Smecker entered his desk, "Who's the lucky guy?"

"It's a girl actually," Connor corrected Smecker.

They heard a few clicks in the background of the phone as Smecker typed away.

"Alright. Height? Age?" the agent asked.

The Twin's shot off like a rocket. Going into details about the girl they saw in the alley, saying nothing about the earlier feeling of eyes burning the back of their head. In retrospect they actually thought the girl was quiet pretty once they got past the quiet-dark-alley-creepy-stalker part. Frankly they weren't even sure that was her, most of this was a hunch that the boys played on.

"An easy 5' 10", maybe 6 foot," Murphy told him, with Connorfollowing right behind.

"She's around 20 to 25 years old,"

"Green eyes,"

"Brown hair to her shoulders"

Finishing with there basic description, they heard Smecker trying to type as fast as the two brothers were spitting them out. They stood silently for a moment to give Smecker a chance to catch up and a chance for them to sort out what to do next. Nothing came to them.

"Any distinct feature? Scars? Injuries? What have you?" Smeckerasked, "Because, frankly boys you described half of South Boston,"

"Yeh," popped in Murphy, "She has a tattoo across her chest that says 'philesuchos' "

"There was some black bands around 'er wrists. She might have been in prison at one point," Connor threw into the mix of details.

There was silence on the other end of the phone as Smecker sat still.

_Why does that sound so familiar? _Smeckeraskedhimself as he tried to create a mental picture of his own.

As the agent kept scowling at the computer, hoping the answer would pop out at him, he typed in the rest of the description intothe FBI data base that kept every criminal that was prosecuted. It was the tattoo. Something about that tattoo the brothers said triggered a switch in Smeckers head and it wasn't going away until he figured it out.

The computer groan in protest as it analyzed the details of the girl, searching for the similar words to compare to different criminal rap sheets.

"Got her," Smecker popped back into action.

The brothers hopped back into life after waiting what felt like an eternity. The held the phone with heavy anticipation as they listened to Smecker read off the information.

"Lucky for you guys that tattoo says a lot more than rebellion. She doesn't have a registered name that we found, but she goes by the alias Magdalen and she's 18 years old. Maggy, here, was imprisoned for killing her father. She's out on parole,"

Connor andMurphy's hearts sank as they ran the information through their heads again. Something wasn't fitting right. Something was missing that connected everything. The girl was barely a legal adult, they didn't want to have to 'remove' her without probably cause.

"Wait a minute. I recognize that tattoo," Smecker said more to himself than the boys.

The twin's perked back up andwaited with patient anticipation as they listened to the frantic clicks of mouse and keyboard.

"Mac Laylin!" Smecker called aloud.

The brothers looked at the phone then each other as they shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

"Who's Mac Laylin?" Murphy finally asked.

"He's the bastard I charged for 2nd degree murder of his wife. It was almost 8 years ago. My first case and the fucker but wasn't convicted. Apparently we didn't have _'sufficant' _evidence and the fucker had the best crooked lawyer in the state of Massechusetts that wriggled his ass out of death row. He has a rap sheet as long as my fucking arm! But get this, Mac is Magdalen's father,"

"Looks like the apple doesn't fall far from te tree," Connor muttered, somewhat hoping that it wasn't true.

"I don't know, boys. Magdalen's last statement was 'He did it. I saw him. I saw him kill her, so I shot him' " Smecker read off.

There was another pause as all three thought about this. Now everything was fitting together, at least a little bit better, but that still left the question 'Why the Saints?' Why Connor and Murphy? But that was for later. All they knew was that they didn't have to 'remove' anyone tonight.

"Talk about karma," Smecker muttered.

"But why was she convicted if her father was the one who did the killing? That doesn't seem quite fair," Connor asked, not seeing the justice in this case at all.

"Because she shot him at home, after the trial ended and he was announced innocent. A .45 to the head does a lot of damage. We didn't know she witnessed anything at the time," Smecker pause and gave a frustrated exhale, "She never testified against him,"

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**I'm sorry if i'm confusing every body! I'm frankly confusing myself. I get an idea, write it down, submit it and don't even think twice about if it will fit or not! BLEH! I promise the next chapter will be better! Reviews are welcome!**


	3. Time Keeper

Connor hung up the phone soon after Smecker gave the brothers a short bio of, who they now knew as, Magdalen's life. Her childhood was relatively normal for America's standards. She was the only child of Mary and Mac Laylin. For the first seven years Magdalen grew up in a small town on the outskirts of an even smaller town of Hazard, Kentucky. For reason's the twin's could only fathom, the Laylin family moved to New York. Going from a pin-point prick town on a map to a big city left them with little money and settled them in the Bronx. Soon Magdalen's father found better love in the company of booze and everything went down hill from there. Mac was an abusive drunk and Mary Laylin submitted half a dozen restraining orders against her soon to be ex-husband. Mac didn't take that very well, especially when Mary kidnaped her daughter and took her to South Boston to keep her away from the abuse. It did little good. Mary still ended up with a gun to her head and Magdalen having to defend Mac off with a frying pan.

Soon after Mary's funeral, Magdalen ran. Smecker found her in the System. She was nine years old when she came to the church orphanage. She's been through more foster-homes than the twin's and Smecker could count on all six of their hands. Magdalen made it through high school with a 3.2 GPA. She had a good future despite her past. She was accepted into Michigan State with loans and grants to help her through all 4 years and she found family in Boston, but something made her snap. Soon after Magdalen graduated she found her estranged father or he found her, depending on what way you took it as he stumbled out of another pub. Police soon found Mac Laylin dead in his house from a call that was put in from Magdalen. The brother's could guess what came soon after.

Magdalen's life left Murphy literally and metaphorically scratching his head as well as his twin. The girl's life was a complete sob story. Something you only hear about in movies and editorials in the _Life_ portion of the newspaper. This girl was a journalists dream ready to happen and being out on parol Magdalen had to have some kind of press coverage, but neither Connor or Murphy heard a thing about it, so why didn't anyone know? The only reason, Smecker told the twin's, was to keep Magdalen's identity safe due to the fact that she was barely legal, which made sense to them, but the boys would still check her out and soon they left the phone with more information to find AKA: Magdalen.

She lived in the better part of South Boston (better meaning, not rat infested) in an apartment-studio complex. Connor and Murphy made the long walked side by side in almost complete silence. . . I said 'almost'

"Wha' do ye think?" Connor asked quietly to keep his own thoughts on track.

" 'bout te girl? I don've a fuckin' clue. Ye?" Murphy replied honestly.

"I don't think she's te evil one. I think she got te the wrong one befur' we did,"

"Ye get the feelin' she was lookin' fer us?" Murphy asked looking to his brother to emphasize his question.

"I have tha' feelin' ev'ry fuckin' day, but wha' she lookin' fer in us?"

There were so many questions and so little answers to give to those questions that the brothers decided to stop while they were ahead and just kept walking, to save what little sanity they had left. By the time they had quiet, they were soon in front of the building that Magdalen resided in and just as they were about to cross the street to enter, none other than Magdalen herself came waltzing out of the swinging doors of the complex. This was going to be easier than they thought, Connor and Murphy hoped, at least.

As they crossed the street, Connor and Murphy watched Magdalen easily submerge herself into the current of the streets, mixing so well with her surroundings that the McManus Brother's had a hard time following her. Magdalen was a nondescript person so of course it was going to be a challenge and quite frankly the twin's thought they would enjoy this chase. As Connor and Murphy strutted down the street in a fast pace, they looked over heads to find the one that was taller than the rest and soon spotted it as it bobbed in and out of their sight. Connor pivoted his head to Murphy as if to say 'get your arse moving!'

The twin's started politely pushing people out of the way, saying ''xcuse me' 'Sorry miss' 'Pardon me' 'Terr'bly sorry' as called for. Quicker than they thought, Connor and Murphy found themselves walking along side Magdalen.

"I guess it was just a matter of time," Magdalen spoke with a nearly faded accent that would have been associated with being a 'red-neck', "You guys aren't as wasteful as I thought you were,"

"People think a lot 'bout us," Connor spoke as they kept walking at the same pace as Magdalen, which was hard for the two short legged brothers.

"But ye seem te be the only one lookin'," Murphy countered.

"Resourceful and smart. I'm starting to like you guys already," Magdalen let a small smirk grace her lips, "But listen, you're not going to get a lot out of me by following me to work. So I suggest coming by tomorrow. You already have my apartment number,"

Magdalen started to saunter off, but both Murphy and Connor caught each of her arms. She wasn't startled as she was pulled back into reach of the twin's sides and even less emotional when the boys rapped their arms around her elbow, placing a vice grip on her upper biceps, nearly under her armpits.

"Or we can talk a little more right now," Magdalen spoke smoothly.

Throughout this whole short conversation Magdalen has let nothing faze her, not even the fact that two complete strangers has come up out of the blue to talk to her, but the way she said everything implied that she knew they were coming, even if they didn't.

"Were ye the one followin' us earlier?" asked the darker-hair brother.

"Yes," Magdalen said without missing a beat.

"Why?" Connor followed right after she answered.

She was silent and soon out of both their grips with a quick, sharp twist and snap of her arms. It was a simple move, but very affective, unknown and unexpected of her. The boys stopped for a second. A little dumbfounded that she had gotten out of their holds so easily. This just wasn't right. They were the one's that were supposed to be in control and somehow the rug got jerked out from underneath them so fast that they seemed to have forgotten to fall, yet.

"You know where I live. The offer still stands," Magdalen called over her shoulder as she was lost, once again in the crowd.

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**Reviews, B.S or just to say it's total crap it welcome!**


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